And he did see them， for a fleeting instant， before the scenery of his mind changed. He saw five fingers， and there was no deformity. Then everything was normal again， and the old fear， the hatred， and the bewilderment came crowding back again. But there had been a moment — he did not know how long， thirty seconds， perhaps — of luminous certainty， when each new suggestion of O’Brien’s had filled up a patch of emptiness and become absolute truth， and when two and two could have been three as easily as five， if that were what was needed. It had faded but before O’Brien had dropped his hand； but though he could not recapture it， he could remember it， as one remembers a vivid experience at some period of one’s life when one was in effect a different person.
“You see now，”said O’Brien，“that it is at any rate possible.”
“Yes，”said Winston.
O’Brien stood up with a satisfied air. Over to his left Winston saw the man in the white coat break an ampoule and draw back the plunger of a syringe. O’Brien turned to Winston with a smile. In almost the old manner he resettled his spectacles on his nose.
“Do you remember writing in your diary，”he said，“that it did not matter whether I was a friend or an enemy， since I was at least a person who understood you and could be talked to？ You were right. I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane. Before we bring the session to an end you can ask me a few questions， if you choose.”
“Any question I like？”
“Anything.”He saw that Winston’s eyes were upon the dial.“It is switched off. What is your first question？”
“What have you done with Julia？”said Winston.
O’Brien smiled again.“She betrayed you， Winston. Immediately-unreservedly. I have seldom seen anyone come over to us so promptly. You would hardly recognize her if you saw her. All her rebelliousness， her deceit， her folly， her dirty-mindedness — everything has been burned out of her. It was a perfect conversion， a textbook case.”
“You tortured her？”
O’Brien left this unanswered.“Next question，”he said.
“Does Big Brother exist？”
“Of course he exists. The Party exists. Big Brother is the embodiment of the Party.”
“Does he exist in the same way as I exist？”
“You do not exist，”said O’Brien.
Once again the sense of helplessness assailed him. He knew， or he could imagine， the arguments which proved his own nonexistence； but they were nonsense， they were only a play on words. Did not the statement，“You do not exist”， contain a logical absurdity？ But what use was it to say so？ His mind shrivelled as he thought of the unanswerable， mad arguments with which O’Brien would demolish him.
“I think I exist，”he said wearily.“I am conscious of my own identity. I was born and I shall die. I have arms and legs. I occupy a particular point in space. No other solid object can occupy the same point simultaneously. In that sense， does Big Brother exist？”
“It is of no importance. He exists.”
“Will Big Brother ever die？”
“Of course not. How could he die？ Next question.”
“Does the Brotherhood exist？”
“That， Winston， you will never know. If we choose to set you free when we have finished with you， and if you live to be ninety years old， still you will never learn whether the answer to that question is Yes or No. As long as you live it will be an unsolved riddle in your mind.”
Winston lay silent. His breast rose and fell a little faster. He still had not asked the question that had come into his mind the first. He had got to ask it， and yet it was as though his tongue would not utter it. There was a trace of amusement in O’Brien’s face. Even his spectacles seemed to wear an ironical gleam. He knows， thought Winston suddenly， he knows what I am going to ask！ At the thought the words burst out of him：
“What is in Room 101？”
The expression on O’Brien’s face did not change. He answered drily：
“You know what is in Room 101， Winston. Everyone knows what is in Room 101.”
He raised a finger to the man in the white coat. Evidently the session was at an end. A needle jerked into Winston’s arm. He sank almost instantly into deep sleep.
英文二十一
“There are three stages in your reintegration，”said O’Brien.“There is learning， there is understanding， and there is acceptance. It is time for you to enter upon the second stage.”
As always， Winston was lying flat on his back. But of late his bonds were looser. They still held him to the bed， but he could move his knees a little and could turn his head from side to side and raise his arms from the elbow. The dial， also， had grown to be less of a terror. He could evade its pangs if he was quick-witted enough： it was chiefly when he showed stupidity that O’Brien pulled the lever. Sometimes they got through a whole session without use of the dial. He could not remember how many sessions there had been. The whole process seemed to stretch out over a long， indefinite time — weeks， possibly — and the intervals between the sessions might sometimes have been days， sometimes only an hour or two.
“As you lie there，”said O’Brien，“you have often wondered you have even asked me — why the Ministry of Love should expend so much time and trouble on you. And when you were free you were puzzled by what was essentially the same question. You could grasp the mechanics of the Society you lived in， but not its underlying motives. Do you remember writing in your diary， ‘I understand how： I do not understand why’？ It was when you thought about‘why’that you doubted your own sanity. You have read the book， Goldstein’s book， or parts of it， at least. Did it tell you anything that you did not know already？”
“You have read it？” said Winston.
“I wrote it. That is to say， I collaborated in writing it. No book is produced individually， as you know.”
“Is it true， what it says？”
“A description， yes. The programme it sets forth is nonsense. The secret accumulation of knowledge — a gradual spread of enlightenment — ultimately a proletarian rebellion — the overthrow of the Party. You foresaw yourself that that was what it would say. It is all nonsense. The proletarians will never revolt， not in a thousand years or a million. They cannot. I do not have to tell you the reason： you know it already. If you have ever cherished any dreams of violent insurrection， you must abandon them. There is no way in which the Party can be overthrown. The rule of the Party is for ever. Make that the starting-point of your thoughts.”